hao guang tse

TSE Hao Guang谢皓光 (poet; Singapore) is the author of hyperlinkage (2013) and Deeds of Light (2015); the latter was shortlisted for the 2016 Singapore Literature Prize. He co-edits the literary journal OF ZOOS, is the essays editor of poetry.sg, and is co-editing UnFree Verse, an anthology of Singaporean poetry. He participates courtesy of the Singapore National Arts Council.

Photo by JOHN VATER

Hao Guang tse

have you ever noticed that

Have you ever noticed that?

Well, one day you’re there, and then will you stop attacking yourself? There’s less of you, centered around textiles. And you wonder where that part went and, I will not live my life, your second thinking, pitiful, testament.

Or what powers you have, or what you wear on your chest. Despite the seemingly minimalist architecture she died, like she lived, always so much more you can expect, you wonder where that part went.

He’s seen grown from “teenager to adult,” it’s a pity, can’t pinpoint any particular promise to be fulfilled. You’re going to do it again, right now, the way you have cut down, waterfront, my pride.

And then you realise you will be cut down, gobbled up, cut some eyeholes, it’s not about where you were born with a picture on it.

Where you got it in your head there’s something wrong, sample delicacies like Land O’Lakes butter, the open book, she answered phones one day. Less of you, holding a box, which is one of the best karaoke joints.

Paper bag, begun in 1973 and consistently cut, some eyeholes withstand the test of times. Look at yourself in the mirror, Oriental Emporium and Supermarket where your strengths and weaknesses are, having dinner with friends at the stalls. And be honest.

The sea at their doorstep. Go forth unto this waiting world with pen in hand, all you young scribes, it is time to take back what is mine. There’s less of you living somewhere outside, that Indian girl, sitting, always so much more that you can expect.

If it’s living somewhere outside of you, maybe you’ll get it back.

When I think about forever, I get upset, gobbled up by land reclamation. Surrounded by the people she answered phones for, going to the snooker club and hanging out till evenings, she died like she lived. And then, it’s about action, you realise, it’s just gone, whiff of burnt ink.

Also comprises Feng Shui masters, it is time to take back what is mine, and exorcists, by my hands will you be cut down inch by inch. You can visit for religious needs while shopping, open book awaits, for other things too; none of these buildings will ever have the sea.

It doesn’t really bother me, it’s forever too long ago. Like the Land O’Lakes butter has that Indian girl, sitting, holding a box. Look at yourself. Cut some eyeholes, go home out of it. Put it takeover your head, and paperbag the mirror. Get undressed and.

And it has, sample delicacies, a picture of her on it, holding a box, with a picture of her on it, holding a box.